Visitations
by Artemis Rain
Summary: FEMSLASH Matter is neither created nor destroyed. Judith watches over the people who touched her life.


Title: Visitations

Author: Artemis Rain

Rating: K+

Spoilers: Friday Night

Warning: May contain traces of het! … Oh, and femslash.

Pairings: Joan/Judith, Judith/Friedman, Grace/Luke, maybe a bit of Adam/Joan if you look really hard.

Note: This story contains an obscure, mostly invisible, possibly nonexistent reference to my other fic, "Misdirections." You don't need to have read it, but if you notice the reference: Yes, it's intentional, and, no, you're not crazy. At least not in this capacity.

Also, the quote: "I don't pop; I abide." (Old Lady God) may come in handy.

Another Note: This story is totally sad. I was in mourning when I wrote it (for the show). I recommend having some Kleenex handy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing at all. Except my cardboard box… Spare some change?

ooooooooooooooo

So, it turns out everything Lischak was talking about is true.

I doubted.

I lied.

I loved.

I believed.

I failed.

I triumphed.

I died.

I am.

My name was Judith. Names mean nothing now. I am not Judith. I am everything. But I cling to Judith. Her life was my life, and her passion lives in me. The people she loved, I continue to love. My world is infinite. They are my world.

I abide.

I am in her bedroom, watching her sleep. She doesn't always see me when she is awake, but she sees me in her dreams. I can touch her there. She wonders, often, if I am okay. She is still with me.

I am perfect.

She is the love I never allowed myself to feel. Potential thrown away. My living dreams held only her. Now her living dreams are for us.

She sleeps. I enter.

When her lips press against mine, I imagine the kisses never shared in life, sweeter than these evanescent dreams.

Potential thrown away.

I abide.

I am in his bedroom, watching him sleep. A presence, nothing more, I caress the lava lamp, the bookshelves, the _Star Wars_ memorabilia, the worn copy of _Hamlet_ by his bed. He filled himself with poetry for me. A life lived in optimism and pride, met at every turn with rejection and failure. What he had to give, I had needed to receive, but didn't.

Curls in disarray against a pillow. A faint ray of moonlight on a lonely face.

Potential thrown away.

In dreams, I give him all of myself, though he deserves much more.

He moans.

I abide.

I am in her bedroom, watching her sleep. A warrior, a revolutionary with a soul of fire, still and quiet as the night. Downstairs, an empty glass drops from a hand gone slack. It barely makes a sound as it hits the carpet, but the girl's face becomes troubled and she stirs.

I wait. All is quiet. The hard beauty of her face relaxes, and is still.

In life, I had troubled her, reminded her of what she already had. We were so much alike, both broken. We could have been beautiful together. The pain was too much.

Potential thrown away.

I reach out to touch her face. She is full of Luke.

Perfect.

I abide.

I am in his bedroom, watching him sleep. Even in dreams his mind is calculating, questioning.

His glasses sit atop an open science book, next to his bed. In them, I cast no reflection.

He was good to me. We shared in each other's pain. Now, someone will be good to him. They share each other. His pain is lessening.

I am not needed here.

I abide.

I am in her bedroom, watching her sleep. Her long blonde hair is twisted around her head. Her heart is twisted with confusion. I am not the only one with her this night. Beneath the science, beneath the equations, beneath "normal," are her dreams. She is full of longing, though she doesn't know what for.

Deep inside her, a well of strength is growing.

I abide.

I am in his bedroom, watching him sleep. The walls are covered in canvass, the floor in paint. The pain, the turmoil in his soul flows out onto empty pages, but never leaves him. His pain is spread out around him, tacked onto the walls, scattered on the floor, propped up in the corners. But expression does not lessen it.

I worked so hard not to steal her from him. Now he needs her more than ever.

His redemption will come. She is still in his life.

Dark forces peer into his window. He is protected. They will not enter. They are kept at bay by one like me. She is no longer Elizabeth, but she will keep him safe.

I abide.

I am in their bedroom, watching them sleep. Once, the house may have stifled the sound of a daughter's footsteps on the stairs. Sneaking in or out. Creeping towards trouble either way. Now the house is painfully silent. Even the breaths of the sleeping figures before me are heavy with grief and regret, and fall like stones from their lips.

Their dreams are filled with sadness. Potential thrown away. Their only child. Their last hope.

If I had eyes, I would cry for them. If I had a heart, it would break for them.

They tried so hard to be good to me. I had tried so hard to push them away.

I settle over them like a blanket, and wait for the dawn.


End file.
